by Stan Mason
***
Morris drove from his house to the main car park at St. Austell where he met Sadler. The fat man had arranged a meeting at an office above a shop in Fore Street. There was only one item on the agenda... the sale of Botallack mine. As they came face to face in the hallway, Morris excused himself to make a telephone call and then returned with a grim expression on his face although he failed to offer any explanation.
‘How much do you think they’ll ask for the mine?’ ventured Sadlerin order to get an idea of the ball-park figure.
‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ replied Morris.
‘If the price is too high you can count me out. I’m not paying through the nose for a defunct mine.’
The fat man laughed in his own peculiar way. ‘We’ll get it all right... at the price we like.’
The banker stared at him with a suspicious expression on his face. ‘How do you know that?’
‘If I told you that... ‘
‘I know... I’d be as wise as you,’ countered Sadler unamused.
The two men entered the office and sat at each end of a long narrow table. Shortly afterwards, the door opened and three men walked in to sit on seats on either side of the table.
‘I’m John Sleeman,’ announced a dark-haired Cornishman sitting in the middle. ‘I’m an estate agent working on the instructions of my client, Mr. Hunkin.’ He motioned his hand towards the man on his right. Then he directed his attention to the man on his left. ‘This is Mr. Tucker who owns a ten per cent share in the mine. There is currently an option to sell but Mr. Tucker wishes to keep his percentage of the shares in the mine.’
Sadler sat bolt upright at the declaration. ‘May we pause there for a second,’ he requested, looking at Morris with a perplexed expression. ‘I’d like to know more about this option to buy the mine,’ he advanced feeling at a distinct disadvantage without the relevant information to hand.
The fat man seemed embarrassed for a moment and opened his coat to release his natural odour for all to experience. ‘I won it in a card game,’ he uttered almost inaudibly.
‘A card game!’ gasped the banker.
Hunkin took it upon himself to relate the details without any need to prompt him. ‘Botallack was not on the market,’ he explained clearly, ‘but there was a game of poker for high stakes. I was left with a full house with no money to raise. I refused to put the deeds of the mine in the kitty but offered an option for sale on terms to be agreed. It so happened that Mr Morris had four threes and I lost. Therefore I’m obliged to honour the debt and sell the mine to him at a reasonable price.’
‘But I’m not selling my ten per cent,’ intervened Tucker firmly. ‘Not unless the price is right.’
Sadler shifted uneasily in his seat. ‘I don’t believe it!’ he muttered irritably. ‘I thought this was a simple matter of negotiation. Now I discover that it was an option won in a card game at no set price with a reluctant shareholder to boot. This is very unsatisfactory!’
‘It’s just a matter of negotiation,’ cut in Morris swiftly.
‘Perhaps it’s not as bad as you think, Mr. Sadler, suggested Sleeman. ‘Bootblack’s a saleable property and the option is for Mr. Morris to buy it. The problem is the matter of price and Mr. Tucker may well sell if the price is high enough.’
‘For Heaven’s sake!’ spluttered the banker angrily. ‘The mine’s been derelict for decades. It’s in an awful state! The machinery, what there is of it, is useless and worthless. It’s flooded probably far worse than we can imagine. It may have collapsed at various levels and there are almost certainly a variety of other problems.’
‘What about all that un-mined tin, copper, wolfram and quartz that’s been down there untouched for centuries,’ claimed Hunkin decisively. ‘The sett’s full of lodes!’
‘Gentlemen, gentlemen!’ soothed the estate agent trying to pour oil on troubled waters. ‘I’m sure we can resolve this matter in an orderly fashion.
‘A card game!’ repeated Sadler, furious at the flippant act which had brought them all to the meeting.
The estate agent ignored the remark to continue with the business at hand. ‘May we consider the value of the property for sale at the moment. Botallack’s a sett... a group of mines covering approximately one square mile of territory. It occupies one of the richest districts in Cornwall in terms of extraction, bordered by the wealthy Levant mine in the north and Boscean and other mines in the south. The rock is granite overlain to the north-west by altered killas and greenstone. There are fourteen separate mines comprising the sett which produced mainly copper and tin. Those minerals that can be found principally in the lodes and many scorras or smaller veins. Some lodes are found under the sea where mining extends for a considerable distance.’
The fat man pushed his battered trilby hat to the back of his head. ‘You’re only telling us the good points, Mr. Estate Agent,’ he interrupted. ‘What about the bad ones?’
‘If you’ll just bear with me, Mr. Morris,’ he was told, ‘I’m coming to that. On the downside, the mine hasn’t been worked for a very long time. The machinery’s very old and may be beyond repair. The scorras... the smaller lodes... are not very rich. No one has reported on the state of the mine or on any of the levels. I have no idea whether flooding has taken place. If the mine is sold, it has to be taken on face value and not on potential. Naturally, you have the opportunity to engage a mining consultant to examine the mine. If that be the case, I shall adjourn this meeting until a report comes to hand.’
Morris shifted uneasily. ‘I’ve come here today to settle the matter. It’s far too late to start arranging surveys. A gambling debt is one of honour and I’m asking for satisfaction... now!’
His words left the meeting in disarray with all five men offering their views at the top of their voices. Morris got to his feet. ‘This is a debt of honour!’ he repeated loudly,’ not a bloody Annual General Meeting! It’s not a sale under estate agent conditions. I’ve an option to but and we’re here to hammer out a price!’
They all fell silent until Sleeman took up the reins again. ‘I can’t condone the reason for this transaction but, having said that, the problem is to determine a fair and reasonable price to satisfy the two parties at least. Would someone suggest a starting price or make a serious offer? Perhaps we can start off like that.’
Sadler and Morris sat quietly without looking at each other. It was clear that they had no intention to commit themselves and then enter into an auction. Hunkin turned to Tucker behind the back of the estate agent and some low murmuring could be heard before they sat back in their respective chairs having arrived at a decision. Hunkin put his hands through his braces and pulled them forward as he leaned back to state his price. ‘We’ll sell at a million pounds... lock, stock and barrel. Take it or leave it!’
This brought large guffaws from the fat man who burst into a bout of coughing which seemed to go on endlessly. ‘Best joke I’ve heard in years!’ he spluttered when he had recovered. He turned his head to the estate agent. ‘What do you think they’re selling... a South African gold mine? It’s an old dilapidated mine... out of use... of little value.’
Tucker’s ears perked up at the comment. ‘If it’s of such little value, why do you want to buy it?’
Morris rounded on him savagely. ‘That’s all we need here... a bloody smart-arse! I want it because I won an option to buy it. That’s why! I’ll take the mine even if it’s worthless but I’m not paying through the bloody nose for it so you’d better come up with a price that’s reasonable!’
‘Well you make an offer then,’ suggested Hunkin brazenly.
‘I’ll take it off your hands for nothing!’ advanced Morris although he knew that he would never get away with it. ‘I mean what use is a lode if it stays in the ground. The price of tin wouldn’t cover the cost of mining the mineral.’
&nb
sp; The offer brought a barrage of abuse, forcing the estate agent to bring his clenched fist hard down on the table to restore silence.
‘Let’s have order, please!’ he shouted.
Tucker realised that the original price sought was no long negotiable so he decided to be more reasonable. ‘I’ve had enough of this bickering,’ he grumbled, wishing to put an end to it all. ‘I’ll sell my ten per cent if the mine goes for four hundred grand. No more, no less!’
Hunkin sat back looking at the ceiling for a few moments as though considering the matter in depth, He believed that his fellow shareholder had dropped the price far too quickly but there was little that he could do to repair the damage. ‘All right,’ he said with great reluctance. ‘If it breaks the deadlock, I’ll go for it but you’re getting a real bargain.’
Morris was about to speak when, to his surprise, Sadler entered the discussion. ‘We’re wasting time here,’ he told them calmly. ‘My bank won’t consider lending that sort of money for a mine that hasn’t been worked for over fifty years and with no account of profitability.
Hunkin looked across the table to Morris and shrugged his shoulders aimlessly. ‘Well, Mr. Morris,’ he snarled. ‘It’s not my fault if you can’t raise the money. The option to buy the mine is still there but only at the price mentioned.’
The fat man was not to be outdone. Sadler had passed the baton to him and he meant to run all the way to the finish with it. ‘As I own the option, Hunkin,’ he began, it’ll remain my option for ever. As such, you’ll never be able to sell the mine. If you don’t sell it to me, it’ll be worthless to you.’
It appeared that they had entered into a Mexican standoff when the fat man stood up and removed his tatty fur coat. The action emulated a boxer taking off his dressing-gown after he had entered the ring to fight in earnest. He sat down again, throwing the fur coat over the end of the table. , and began to roll up his sleeves.
‘Okay!’ he said gruffly, as they all stared at him wondering what he was going to do. ‘We’ll play it your way but let me warn you that the game will be a greater gamble than with the cards. I’m willing to employ a mining consultant to survey the mine. If he can prove it’s in a very poor condition, I’ll buy it from you for a hundred thousand pounds. If he says it’s in a good condition, I’ll pay you three hundred-and-fifty thousand. It’s a fair gamble but Mr. Tucker’s ten per cent comes into the frame as well. What do you say?’
‘We can’t make deals like that,’ complained Tucker sharply.
‘Why not?’ demanded Sadler. ‘If you won’t agree to a survey, then you must know that the mine is in an appalling condition. Certainly not worth the price you asked.’
Hunkin shook his head vigorously. ‘You win both ways on a deal like that,’ he complained bitterly. ‘On a good report, you get a good mine very cheaply. On a bad one, you get it for practically nothing. And mining consultants always paint a bad picture to cover themselves.’
‘Let’s be honest,’ continued the banker seriously. ‘The mine’s in a terrible condition. Settle at a reasonable price now and be done with it.’
The vendors stared at each other before entering into a whispered discussion with the estate agent who eventually straightened up to address the meeting formally. ‘I’ve been asked to adjourn the meeting to allow the shareholders to discuss the matter. ‘Can we meet back here in, say half-an-hour.
***
Morris and Sadler left the room to go to a nearby café and the banker gave vent to his temper as soon as they were seated. ‘I wish you’d levelled with me, Morris!’ he snapped irately. ‘You won the option in a card game. Are you out of your mind? People don’t gamble on open-ended options. You can see the mess you’ve got us in!’
‘You can’t expect everything to be entirely rational when you’re playing cards for high stakes,’ retorted Morris trying to find a reasonable excuse. Look, we’ve got those guys over a barrel. You wait and see. If they don’t honour the debt, no on will ever play poker with them again.’
‘A debt of honour indeed!’ muttered the banker, shaking his head slowly. ‘The whole thing’s ridiculous!’ He felt the situation slipping away from him despite the assurances of the other man but he decided to see it through to the end. He didn’t have to commit himself if he decided against the idea. Shortly, they returned to the room above the shop and resumed their seats.
The estate agent immediately handed an envelope to Morris who opened it and removed a small sheet of paper with a sum written on it. He showed it to Sadler who took a pen from his pocket and revised the figure before passing it back. Sleeman removed the slip of paper to examine the new figure and passed it to Hunkin. There was a long pause and then the shareholders entered into a further whispered discussion.
Then the estate agent faced Morris with a satisfied expression on his face. These gentlemen have identified the price at which they’re willing to sell their shareholding in the mine. It’s the final price they tell me, One hundred-and-fifty thousand pournds which includes Mr. Tucker’s ten per cent shareholding. However there’s one other condition. Botallack’s an excellent tourist attraction and the sale is subject to Mr. Hunkin and Mr. Tucker retaining all the revenue from the tourist trade. This clause is to be written into the terms of the sale contract. Everyone must agree irrevocably to the sale at this price and this condition here now. I’m not allowing anyone to have second thoughts tomorrow and backing out.’
‘How can we be sure about the money?’ enquired Hunkin anxiously.
The fat man hoisted a thumb towards the banker. ‘He’ll take care of that side for you with a cheque or a banker’s draft. ‘I s everyone agreed irrevocably as to the sale and condition?’
They all nodded and made affirmative responses. Sadler began to realise that Morris knew exactly what he was doing. He had purchased the mine at a very low price, securing one hundred per cent of the shares with relative ease. The fat man might have looked like a tramp but he had an incisive way of dealing in business negotiations.
‘By the way,’ he informed Sadler as they left the room. ‘The telephone call I made was to the mining consultant who looked over the mine yesterday, The full report won’t be ready for a few days but he gave me his opinion with regard to the state of the mine.’ He paused for effect to allow the banker to take the bait.
‘Well,’ responded Sadler impatiently with his heart in his mouth. ‘What did he say?’
Morris took his time to reply. ‘Except for some elementary flooding, the mine seems to be in fair shape The water can be pumped out without too much trouble and there are no signs of collapse. I believe we’ve done some good horse-trading today.’
‘You rogue!’ exclaimed Sadler, seeing the fat man in a new light. ‘You knew that the mine was in good condition all the time. Morris was definitely on the ball and it made him realise that sitting in a bank branch every day was causing him to lose his edge. ‘What would you have done if they’d agreed to a survey,’ he asked in due course.
‘No problem,’ he replied flatly. ‘The mining consultant’s desperate to get his hands on a small share of the mine for personal reason. But don’t think we got away with it. The machinery required will cost as much as the purchase price. We might be able to lease some of it which will reduce the cost considerably although we’ll need money for working capital. My next task is to go to London to convince the Government that we can store the nuclear waste. That’s where the red-tape comes in.’
‘Who will you contact to start negotiations,’ sked the banker with interest.
‘I’m already ahead of you on that,’ retorted the fat man pulling his battered trilby hat down towards his eyes. ‘I go on the sixteenth, I told them I already bought the mine.’
The banker shook his head slowly as he made his way back to his office. He had assumed that he was in control of the situation but the fat man had taught him a l
esson. One could easily underestimate a man who smelt like a pig, looked like a tramp, and played for options on mines in card games. Sadler made a mental note never to do so again... certainly not with Wesley Morris!
Chapter Nine
Following Ivan’s hysterical outburst in the street, James led him to a café but the young man kept babbling in Russian making no sense at all. Eventually he calmed down and told the mining consultant the whole story. ‘For the last few months,’ he concluded, ‘I’ve studied the subject of mining until it’s coming out of my ears. Now I’m looking for a job.’
‘And I presume that you know everything there is to know about mining.’ The remark was sarcastic but the Russian simply nodded and shrugged his shoulders. ‘All right,’ challenged James, what’s black tin?’
Ivanh paused to adjust his mind to the text he had studied. Black tin... oxide of tin... casserite. Tin or triturate, dressed and rendered clean for smelting.’
‘Streaming?’
This time he didn’t wait to think. ‘The working of shallow alluvial deposits. Washing the deposits and separating the heavy oxide of tin from the pebbles or sand with which it is mixed.’
‘What’s a winze?’
‘A shaft sunk from level to level for ventilation and for dividing tribute ground.’
There was silence as the questions stopped and Ivan feared for a moment that he might have confused his answers. The mining consultant was thinking deeply however, without realising that the Russian was waiting for a verdict from the other man. James was sure that the Gods were laughing at him. One moment he was walking along the road and, suddenly, the odd person on whom he had set eyes only once before had fallen into his arms. The man looked ill and James felt compassion for him although he couldn’t fathom the reason.
Ivan waited until the silence became intolerable. ‘Were any of my answer incorrect?’ he enquired with an element of concern in his voice.
